"You want me to take you there, huh?" Remo said, gesturing.
The priest nodded curtly.
"Why should I? You didn't exactly treat me like your long lost brother. Not to mention your hospitality toward Cooligan."
Again, the dying priest seemed to know what Remo was thinking. He blinked rapidly, striving to keep his eyes in focus. Clearly the man was losing consciousness. Then, with great effort, he bowed to Remo.
"Oh, cut it out," Remo said, picking the man up deftly. The movement, gentle as Remo tried to make it, must have been excrutiating. Still, the priest made no sound. "I guess you're not going to hurt anyone now."
Good guys and bad guys, killers and saints... In their final moment, all men knew terror. It was Quintanodan's moment now, and Remo respected it.
He did not despise the man for being a killer. Remo was one himself, after all, and although he had known since the death of the old king that Quintanodan would have to die, Remo was hard pressed to feel any hatred for him now. He had looked into the eyes of too many dying men to hate an enemy in torment. All life was sacred in the moment it was extinguished.
And so he carried the priest to the top of Bocatan, steaming above the destruction in the valley.
Quintanodan, lying on his back, beckoned to the boy Po to come near him while he spoke. The boy translated the man's anguished words.
"It is written that the voice of the gods will come to rule the Maya and defeat their enemies," he said. "The prophecy has come to pass. My people are dispersed, my tribe decimated. But you will not rule forever, because the Olmec understand what you do not: that the past and the future are one. That which flourishes must decay. That which lives now must return to its ashes. My people are clever. Many have died this day, but others have fled to wait, to fight again. Two of the gods' weapons remain. They are well hidden now, but one day they will be found.
"I have come to tell you this. We will fight you one day, and on that day we will defeat you. Until then, we will wait in secret. The name of the Olmec will be no more. But when our time comes, your empire will crumble to dust at our hands. For all the ages of man, no one will know why the great Mayan civilization vanished, but you will know, and your children, and your children's children, for I speak from the Sight, and the Sight does not lie. Ages hence, the Olmec will conquer you, you will be as dust in the wind of the sea."
He stood up painfully, rivulets of sweat running down his disfigured features. He faced the gaping mouth of the volcano and repeated an ancient prayer:
"All moons, all years, all days, all winds, take their course and pass away."
He held his blackened arms over his head. Then, his face composed, his mouth set, he dived into the distended mouth of the volcano, making no sound as he died.
The Mayans standing atop Bocatan turned to Remo and Chiun and knelt. Dawn flooded the sky with red, looking through the smoke and steam like a vision from hell.
The moment lingered forever, it seemed. Each man tried to take a measure of the events of the past twenty-four hours, and could only remember it as a time of great moment, its details already fading into the realm of legend. Only Chiun remained entirely in the present, lowering himself to the ground, listening.
"What are you doing, Little Father?" Remo said, noticing the strange posture of the old Oriental.
"Take them away from here," Chiun said.
"Why?"
The old man spoke softly. "Earthquake."
The boy was the first to respond. "Nata-Ah," he cried, limping as fast as he could toward the village, where the women and children of Yaxbenhaltun slept.
?Chapter Fifteen
The limestone columns of the palace were already crashing by the time the boy reached it. Remo was inside, pulling the women and the household staff to safety, while Chiun and Lizzie worked with the Mayan warriors to wake the rest of the village.
"Where is Nata-Ah?" Po asked.
"I can't find her. Maybe she's already out."
"She is not. She must be here!" the boy bellowed.
"Look, I've got enough on my hands," Remo said, pulling a bevy of shrieking dancing girls through the falling rock. "The building's full, and it's going to go fast, so get out of the way."
"I will help," the boy said, rushing into the palace. Two old women, balancing a load of clay dishes between them, tottered from the kitchen, blocking the hall where others screamed behind them. The boy knocked the dishes out of their hands and pushed them forward, making room for the stampede.
"Nata-Ah!" he called, forcing his way against the crowd. He scanned the panicking faces that swept past him, but the beautiful young girl was not among them.
Po made his way into the interior of the palace, where the ornate painted ceilings dipped and swayed rhythmically to the deep rumbles of the earthquake. The roof would cave in within minutes with him inside, unless he got out quickly. But Nata-Ah. What if she was still somewhere in the palace?
He walked under the buckling ceiling of the reception hall and into the labyrinth of the palace's great rooms.
"Nata-Ah!" he shouted, but. his voice was drowned out in the splintering crash of stone on ground outside.
She was not in the room where she normally slept. The other rooms were also empty, their doors hanging open. Only the king's throne room was sealed.
He burst in. The girl was inside, sitting straight and tall upon her grandfather's magnificent throne.
"Nata-Ah, you must come. There is danger," Po said in the Old Tongue.
"This is the end of the world," the girl said softly. "I am the world's ruler now. I will remain here."
"Oh, Nata-Ah," Po pleaded. "There is so much I have to tell you. This isn't the end. It's just the beginning. Me, I come from the end, not you. Your people will make a mark on history that will never be forgotten, never."
"You know this?"
"Yes, I know."
"You are the voice of the gods, just as my grandfather said. You are like Quintanodan. You have the Sight."
"Nata-Ah, your grandfather was only setting a trap for Quintanodan when he called me that. And I don't have the Sight. It's just that I come from—"
"You came with the gods," she said. "And you will leave with them. And I will remain here, for I do not wish to live without you." Her eyes shone with tears.
He was stunned. Long moments passed. Down the hall, the ceiling burst and a ton of rock poured into the smashed palace with a sound like thunder. The door to the throne room flew open and creaked mightily, twisting out of shape as an ocean of debris showered behind it.
Po touched her face. "Then I will stay here with you," he said. "For you are all I need in this life. I have followed you forever, and now that I have found you, I will stay to my last breath at your side."
Suddenly, through the wreckage, a man appeared.
"What the hell are you two doing here?" Remo yelled angrily, grabbing each child in one hand and vaulting to the. window. "Hang on." He tumbled outside, leaping over the piles of fallen cement to safety.
"You've got rocks in your heads, both of you," he shouted over his shoulder as he ran toward the square. "When this is over with, I'm going to spank the daylights—"
"Remo," Lizzie shouted excitedly.
"I don't have time," Remo said.